Listening to Dark
by laynee
Summary: Dean didn't have much time and he knew it. Yeah, the spirit was gone, but so was Sam. If Dean could just get him to Bobby's, then maybe everything would be all right. Please, let everything be all right. Hurt/damaged Sam, Worried Dean
1. Control

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-s-/\

A rope was coiled nearby, one end frayed.

"Come on, Sammy. Don't do this to me."

Sam was sprawled across the damp wood floor, eyes closed, limp, not breathing. Dean ran to his brother's side and tried to keep his panic under control as he heard his own blood thump in his ears. The bruises on Sam were already starting to appear, blood was thick and coagulated from his nose and a gash across his forehead. Dean checked for a pulse with shaking hands. Nothing but still blood in veins.

Desperately he started chest compressions. "Get your ass up, Sammy." Nothing changed. "Fuck. Sammy, please."

Dean started the third round of alternating compressions and breaths. He felt a rib crack, but couldn't make himself stop.

"Sammy." His voice broke as a tear escaped his efforts to keep them back and traced a way down his cheek. "Please."

--

Two Hours Earlier.

Dean slammed the trunk closed and tucked the pistol into the waistband of his jeans. Sam was checking that his own gun was loaded and working. Dean turned to the abandoned school and thought that even without the overcast sky, that damn place still would have looked straight out of a horror flick.

"Ready, Sam?"

Sam turned to him. "Yeah."

A drop of rain fell and hit the impala. The two walked up to the doors and forced one open. The air was damp and musty. The beams of light from their flashlights caught the dust as it swirled through the air. The rain picked up outside and dripped somewhere in the darkness.

"Most of the victims were found on the third floor." Sam kept his voice low.

"How's your head?"

"Fine." Sam automatically replied.

He lied. The headache from the night before still pounded at his temple, not as much as before, but enough to notice that the three ibuprofens didn't do anything.

"We can do this tomorrow, if you want."

Sam turned his light on his brother. "Dean, seventeen people have been killed here in the last month. Somehow this place lures people in, not all of them were teenagers here on a dare."

"I know, but if you're not top form-"

"I'm fine. All we got to do is find this spirit and recite a few rites."

Dean met his brother's eyes in the dark and saw the angry determination that burned there. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, let's go." Sam led the way down the hall.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm. "Sam."

"I knew one of the victims, okay?" His voice was even, calm. "I told his mother that I'd get whoever got her son."

Dean tried to remember the list of names to see if any stuck out. His breath caught for a moment. Jeremy Moore, Jess's brother. Dean knew why Sam had to get this thing, he knew why his kid brother had to tell Jess's mother that at least one of her children's murders was resolved. Sam's shoulders were squared and his hand steady, the light didn't waver an inch. He was in full hunt mode, determined and dead set on getting this thing.

They moved silently through the dark halls. Water pooled in a few places, marking places where the roof had failed after all the years. Something shimmered at the end of the hall and then disappeared. Sam started for it, but Dean held him back.

Sam pulled from his brother's grasp. He knew the spirit was down there and he had to get it. He pulled out the book that contained the rites and walked forward.

"Sam, wait."

He turned back to Dean. "What?"

"Don't go into this thing all pissed off, anger clouds judgment. You know that. We'll get this thing."

He didn't say anything, but nodded slightly. They continued down the hall. The guy that belonged to the spirit had been cremated, so the basic salt and burn didn't apply. That always made things a little more difficult. Apparently, according to the testimonies of those who survived the murderous spirit, it could look like anyone.

"_Sam?_"

He barely caught the whisper and glanced back at Dean. "Did you say something?"

Dean met Sam's eyes. "No. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, let's just do this."

"_Sam. You have to help me._"

Dean saw his brother pause for a moment. He wanted to ask Sam what was wrong, but knew he'd just get 'nothing' as a reply.

"_Only you, not him._"

Sam glanced over at Dean. "We'll finish this faster if we split up."

"Splitting up never ends well, I think every horror movie has taught us that."

"_Please, Sam. Only you can help me._"

Sam was smart enough and had hunted too long to listen to some disembodied voice.

"_Sam, you promised my mom. Save me like you couldn't save Jess._"

His blood ran icy and something dropped into the pit of his stomach. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. A wave of dizziness washed over him and the pain in his head sharpened. He touched the wall for support and leaned against the damp cement.

"Sam?" Dean searched his eyes.

"Just give me a minute." Sam gripped Dean's sleeve.

Sam felt like passing out or vomiting, he wasn't sure which. He closed his eyes again and swallowed back the nausea. He was cold and his skin damp with sweat.

Something crashed a few rooms away. Both Dean and Sam looked towards the sound.

Dean slipped the book out of his brother's shaking hand. "Stay here, I'm going to finish this. Okay?"

"What about the splitting up thing?" He almost smiled.

"I never take movies too seriously."

"Except porn." He did smile then.

"Everything has an exception." He noticed how pale Sam was. "Stay a few feet behind me then."

Sam nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. Dean started down the hall again, his brother behind him.

"_Sam, you have to find me. Please._"

His headache sharpened again and he staggered slightly. He leaned against a nearby door to the gym. A light flickered for a moment in the darkness of the gym and Sam looked towards it.

"Hey, Dean." Sam glanced back. "I think there's something in here." He stepped into the gym.

Sam's footsteps echoed with the dripping water. He splashed through a few unseen puddles. His hand shook, causing the beam of light to tremble in the dark. His mouth was dry and the pounding in his head increased again. He dropped down to one knee and pressed his fingers against his temple.

Quiet footsteps drew Sam's attention away from his pain. He stood too quickly and was flooded by dizziness. When his vision cleared he saw the translucent outline of a figure. It took him a few seconds to pick out the blond hair and dark eyes from the surrounding dark.

A chill ran up his spine as he recognized the boy. "Jeremy?"

The boy smiled sadly. He looked so much like Jess, forever preserved at seventeen.

"_Help me, Sam._" Jeremy met Sam's eyes.

"Oh." The air left Sam's lungs.

"Hey, Sam." Dean turned and saw only the empty hall behind him. "Sam?" He paused to listen for footsteps, but heard only the distant drip of water. "Shit."

Dean backtracked to find his brother and tried to ignore the sudden fear that he felt. The spirit appeared in front of him. She was beautiful, soft auburn hair and deep blue eyes. If she wasn't dead, Dean would have jumped her in a second.

She blocked the doors to the gym. "_Hello, Dean_."


	2. Air

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-s-/\

"_She talked about you all the time._" Jeremy walked towards Sam.

His headache pierced and he fell to his knees. Bile burned his throat and he swallowed it back.

"Dean." He weakly called.

"_Oh, he's a little busy. So, I don't think he'll be coming._"

Sam took a breath. "You're not him."

Jeremy knelt and looked into Sam's eyes. "_No, I'm not. Though he did pass through here, but you already knew that. So easy to get him here through his grief, almost as easy as it was to get you._"

Sam desperately wanted to fight, to get away, but he couldn't move. The spirit held him too strong.

Dean watched the spirit. "I think your fun is just about over."

"_It's just beginning._" She smiled. "_Do you know where your brother is?_" She smiled at the fear that filled Dean's eyes. "_I know where he is, and where he's going._"

"Where's that?"

Her icy hand caressed Dean's cheek. "_Six feet under._"

He didn't need the book for the ritual.

Sam found a ladder and propped it against the wall. He climbed the ladder that creaked under his weight.

"_That's right, Sam. You know this is the only way to balance all the death you've caused._"

Sam's face and eyes were empty from the spirit's grip. He tied the rope around a sturdy pipe and placed the noose over his head. Jeremy kicked the ladder out from under Sam's feet.

As soon as the rope tightened around his neck, he broke from the trance. His hands went to the rope at his neck and tried to keep it from tightening further. He struggled for breath, for life.

"_Goodbye, Sam._" Jeremy smiled. "_It really was a pleasure meeting you._"

Dean recited the ritual with determination and desperation. The spirit burned with fury, but was held to the spot.

"_Sure, I'm as good as gone._" Her voice faded. "_But so is Sam._"

The spirit vanished. Dean pushed the doors open and saw his brother. Dean's heart stopped, forgot how to beat for a second. Sam hung limp from the rope, still swinging slightly. Dean pulled out the pistol and aimed at the rope a few feet above Sam's head. He steadied his hand and fired.

The rope frayed and broke. Sam fell five feet to the unforgiving floor. His body crumpled. Dean ran to him. Sam's lips were blue, his skin gray.

Dean started the third round of alternating compressions and breaths. He felt a rib crack, but couldn't make himself stop.

"Sammy." His voice broke as a tear escaped his efforts to keep them back and traced a way down his cheek. "Please."

Sam's back arched as he gasped for breath. He instinctively rolled to his side and coughed. Dean kept a hand on Sam's arm to steady him. Sam continued to cough and gasp for air. He vomited and spit blood on the floor in front of him.

"You're all right, Sammy. Just breathe, take all the time you need." Dean squeezed Sam's arm.

Sam shook and struggled to get his breathing under control. He still struggled for air, his thoughts too clouded to figure out what happened. He was so tired, he wanted to sleep for a year. Pain still beat against his head and matched the pain in his chest and around his throat.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bobby's number. With each ring, Dean hoped harder than before that Bobby would answer.

"Hello?" Bobby's voice calmed Dean.

"It's Dean." He kept his eyes locked on Sam to make sure that he was still breathing.

"Is everything okay?"

"Not exactly." Dean took a breath and hated that it was so easy for him. "We're about an hour west of your place. Think you can meet us here."

"Sure. What happened?"

"Sam's pretty bad off, but I don't want to move him, not yet."

"What highway are you off of?"

Dean paused to remember. "The school after the Hollendell exit on highway seventy."

"I'm out the door now."

Dean closed the phone and dropped it to the floor. He moved so he could see Sam's face. A little of the color had returned, but he was still deathly pale and his lips still blue tinted.

"Sammy, can you open your eyes for me?" Dean held his brother's limp hand. "Sammy."

His eyes opened for a second, so brief that Dean almost missed it.

"That's good, Sammy. That's all I needed."

"Dean?" He rasped and started coughing again.

"Yeah. Don't try to say anything, Sam. Just rest and breathe."

He continued to fight for air and Dean wished there was something he could do. Sam's fingers tightened around his. Sam shivered on the damp floor, his eyes closed. Dean counted down the minutes until Bobby would arrive.

The rain continued outside and dripped inside. Dean's phone rang and he picked it up. Sam stirred slightly, but didn't wake.

"Bobby?"

"I'm at the school, where are you?"

"The gym."

"What happened, Dean?"

"Just get here."

Dean tossed the phone down. He took Sam's hand. He pressed two fingers to Sam's wrist just to feel the pulse.

Bobby appeared in the doorway and saw the two boys on the floor. He ran over and knelt next to them.

"Dean?" Bobby saw the dark bruising around Sam's neck, the blue of his lips and his ragged breaths.

He glanced over at Bobby. "Let's get him out of here."

Dean and Bobby carefully lifted Sam from the floor. He winced as he was moved and brought out to Bobby's van. They placed Sam on the floor in the back and Bobby tucked a blanket around him.

"Dean, get in the van with me. I'll come back tomorrow with the truck to tow your car to my place."

He climbed in back with Sam as Bobby jumped behind the wheel. Bobby pulled away from the school and hit the highway.

He glanced in the mirror at Dean. "Hollendell has the closest hospital. What happened, Dean?"

Sam's fingers tightened around Dean's. "It should have been easy." Dean briefly met Bobby's eyes in the mirror. "Somehow we got separated, Sam wasn't a hundred percent, he said he was fine. I should have made him go back to the car."

"You know as well as I do how stubborn he is. Once his mind is set, well it'd probably be easier stopping a freight train. Not your fault, Dean."

Sam coughed and Dean wiped the blood away that ran from his mouth.

"When I saw him, he was hanging from a pipe in the gym." Dean's voice was soft.

"Hanging, you mean…?"

"Yeah." Dean remembered, all too well, the cold sickness in his stomach when he saw Sam like that.

Sam opened his eyes and found Dean.

"Hey." Dean hoped he was smiling, because he meant to be. "You okay?"

Sam gave the slightest of nods as he struggled to get a breath. "Hurts." He sighed.

"Where?"

Dean helped Sam lift his hand as his younger brother pointed towards his chest and head.

"We'll get you all taken care of."

"Is it gone?" He coughed violently again.

Dean rolled him to his side so he wouldn't add choking to his list of breathing problems. "Yeah, Sammy. It's gone."

"Good."

Dean almost didn't hear him say it. Sam slipped back into unconsciousness. It was easier than trying to fight breathing and the pain, better just to let it all fade into darkness. Dean felt him relax under his hand and watched the labored rise and fall of his chest.

Bobby pulled into the emergency room parking and jumped out of the van. On his way around he opened the back doors. Sam's fingers tightened around Dean's hand briefly even though Dean was certain that his brother wasn't conscious.

A doctor and a few nurses rushed out with a gurney. They carefully placed Sam on it and hurried him inside. Dean climbed out, overwhelmed with all that had happened. He never got a moment to straighten it all out. Bobby gave the doctor Sam's name and all the important information.

"What happened?" The doctor turned to Dean.

He snapped out of his daze and tried to figure out how to word this in a way that didn't make Sam end up on suicide watch.

Bobby rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. "The boys were working on painting the trim and he slipped off the ladder, the rope wrapped around his neck."

It was better than anything Dean could have come up with.

"Was he breathing when you found him?"

"No." Dean looked the way Sam was taken. "His ribs might be broken." He could feel the snap in his hands still, the weight of the fact that he caused his brother's pain.

"That often happens during CPR." The doctor smiled at Dean and he wondered how the man could do that. "I'll let you know once he's stable."

"Thanks." Dean nodded.

Bobby led him over to a chair and they sat to wait.


	3. Resolution

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't. I'm a recent college grad with negative money (I owe money) so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

-sn-

Dean was going to rip the clock from the wall just to silence the persistant ticking. Like he needed something counting the seconds, minutes, hours he'd been sitting and waiting. Bobby slowly paced the room as he nursed a cup of hospital coffee.

"You want a cup of this sludge?" Bobby caught Dean's eyes.

"No." He looked at the clock.

It had been three hours since Sam was taken down the hall. Dean couldn't get the image out of his head of his brother hanging in the gym.

"He's gonna be fine, Dean."

A doctor came into the room. "Family of Sam Adams?"

Dean glanced at Bobby who shrugged with a smirk.

"How's he doing?"

Bobby rested his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"He's stabilized. I want to get his O2 sats up and make sure there isn't any lasting damage. He got lucky."

"Can I see him?"

"Of course." The doctor led Dean and Bobby down the quiet hall, past rooms of still and silent people. Dean paused in Sam's doorway for a moment.

Sam had an oxygen mask over his pale face. A heart monitor beeped steadily above him. Dark bruises circled his neck and tape was wrapped around his chest. Lines ran pain medication and fluids into his arm and an oxygen monitor glowed at his index finger. Dean pulled a chair up to Sam's bedside.

He carefully slipped his hand under his younger brother's. Dean took a slow breath and watched the heart monitor for a few minutes, just to be reassured in it's rhythm. Sam shifted slightly and Dean looked over at him. His eyes were open, slowly he reached for the oxygen mask.

Dean caught his hand. "Need to keep that there, Sammy"

"Dean?" He muttered and coughed. He winced at the pain it caused.

"Hey, just rest. You doing okay?"

Sam nodded. "What happened?" He whispered and swallowed painfully.

Dean paused, not yet ready to remember and speak of the details. "The damn spirit tried to do you in."

Sam was missing a lot of what happened after he entered the gym and saw Jeremy. He remembered small things; Jeremy's eyes, the feeling of rope, the damp smell of the gym, the need to follow the way Jess and Jeremy went into death, but he didn't know why any of those things were in his memory.

"When can I get out of here?" He rasped and coughed again, pain tore at his ribs, throat and head.

Dean smiled. "A day or two maybe. How's your head?"

He shrugged and sunk further into the pillow. He was starting to fall asleep again, though he fought it briefly. The medication was stronger than his will and he drifted off again.

Dean felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Sam was going to be all right, he was all right.

Bobby leaned against the wall. "I'm going to get your car to my place. I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll be here." Dean slouched in the chair.

"See you later." He left the room.

Sam shifted slightly, but continued to sleep. Dean didn't mind sitting at his brother's bedside, bedsides meant recovery and recovery meant alive.

Bobby returned a few hours later with a sandwich and a cup of better coffee for Dean. He accepted it gratefully and took a drink.

"How's he doing?" Bobby sat in a nearby chair.

"All right, I think." He paused. "I thought he was dead when I first saw him there. Technically, he was."

"You two have more lives than a damn cat."

"Comes in handy, I guess." Dean smirked. "He asked when he could leave."

"Sounds like Sammy. At least you can put this job behind you."

Dean looked at his brother. "Not yet."

"Something still in that school?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so. Sammy knew the family of one of the victims. That's why he wanted to take this case."

Dean and Bobby sat in Sam's room through the night, they dozed with their heads rested back against the wall. Sam slept through it all, unaware of anything else. Slowly the monitors and medications were removed from him as he continued to improve. Each one marked a small victory on the way to getting out of the hospital. His blood oxygen was carefully monitored, but there didn't seem to be any lasting damage.

Sam woke as morning light pressed against the closed blinds. He shifted and felt the places that would be sore for a while. His neck was stiff and his throat raw. The pain from his fibs sharpened if he moved at all and his head still throbbed slightly. He sat the head of the bed up to see how sitting felt. Other than dizzy, nothing became worse.

Dean and Bobby woke a few seconds before a doctor came into the room with Sam's chart. "How are you feeling?

"All right." Sam's sounded like he was suffering form a severe case of laryngitis.

"You're doing well considering how you came in here fourteen hours ago."

"When can I leave?" He coughed slightly.

"I'd like to keep you until this afternoon."

Sam nodded and caught Dean's glance from across the room.

"I'm going to take you off the oxygen and see how it goes from there." He carefully removed the mask. "Let somebody know if you're short of breath or have any difficulty breathing. All right?"

He nodded again.

"Good. I'll talk to you later." The doctor left the room.

Sam reached for the glass of water on the nearby table. Dean stood and handed it to his brother. The water eased the rawness of his throat some. He handed the glass back.

Sam's oxygen levels dropped a little as time passed, but not anything that the doctors were concerned about. At three in the afternoon, Sam was released with a couple new prescriptions and strict orders for bed rest for the next few days.

He didn't allow himself to relax fully until he was in Bobby's van and they had left the parking lot. Sam wrote down an address and handed it to Dean.

He turned to his younger brother. "Sammy, you need to rest."

"I need to do this." He whispered. "She needs to know."

Dean had rarely seen the passionate determination that burned in Sam's eyes now. "Okay. Hey, Bobby, we're taking a detour."

Sam settled back against the seat and closed his eyes. He ran through conversations he could have, tried to find the words to say that could possibly comfort a mother who has lost everything that mattered most to her.

The van stopped and Dean touched Sam's knee. "Sam."

He opened his eyes and looked at the yellow farmhouse. He slowly climbed from the van and wished that he didn't have the news he came to deliver.

"We'll wait here." Dean got out and leaned against the van.

Sam walked up to the house. He limped a little, his ankle slightly sprained from his fall. He moved slow, a result of the pain he was in, but refused to acknowledge. He took a breath and knocked on the door.

A woman with soft, blond hair and deep blue eyes answered the door. She was in her mid forties and her eyes betrayed the grief she suffered and worked to hide.

"Sam." She smiled when she saw him and hugged him because she knew that he never had the chance to be hugged like that.

Dean suddenly realized that Sam never really had a mother, he always knew that, but seeing his brother welcomed like that, brought to light just how sad it was that Sam didn't remember her like Dean did. This woman was more of a mother to Sam than he and Dean's mother was.

"I think Sam needed this as much as she did."

Dean looked over at Bobby at his side. "It's always him, isn't it? He always ends up losing everything."

"Seems like it."


	4. Necessary

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't. I'm a recent college grad with negative money (I owe money) so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

-sn-

It had been a few years since he had seen Emily Moore. Jess had brought him home for breaks and holidays during college. Emily liked Sam from the start. She knew, like mothers do, that he needed a family, that he needed people to welcome him home. She could do that for him.

Emily stepped back and held Sam by his shoulders to look at him. She gently touched the bruises around his neck. "What happened, Sam?"

"Just an accident." His voice was a little stronger.

She searched his eyes and saw the pain, but also a strength and determination that wasn't there the last time she met his gaze. She glanced towards the van.

"My brother and a friend." He glanced back.

"Would you like to come in, they're welcome too."

Sam smiled slightly. "I just wanted to swing by."

"You're always welcome here."

He looked towards the ground. "I wanted to let you know." He swallowed back the pain of tears and the knowledge of being the messenger for that pain. Sam was the first to tell her about Jess. "I heard about Jeremy, and I want you to know that the person responsible for his death has been stopped." He whispered.

He raised his eyes to hers. She nodded, took a breath and once again pulled him into her arms.

"We seem to have this conversation too often." She whispered, not an accusation, just fact.

Sam nodded because he knew if he tried to speak, the tears that he worked so hard to keep back would break lose.

"I know it wasn't easy for you to come here, but seeing you always brightens my day, Sam."

He had to know, had to ask. "Do you blame me for Jess?"

She held him back by his shoulders and met his eyes. "I have never seen her so happy as when she was with you." She gently squeezed his shoulders. "No, Sam, I don't blame you one bit."

He nodded and swallowed. He cleared his throat. "I should head out. It was good seeing you again."

"You'll always have a home here. You know that, don't you?"

He smiled slightly, yeah, he knew that. "Goodbye."

She kissed his cheek before he turned and slowly limped back to the van. She watched Dean grip Sam's shoulder and meet his younger brother's eyes and then she watched him climb into the van and pull away.

Sam leaned his head against the window and felt the pressure of unshed tears in his head. His hands trembled slightly and he didn't know if he wanted to scream, run or fight. Dean watched his brother in the mirror and wished for something to say that would help, but all words seemed to fall short.

Dean turned in the seat. "Sammy?"

Sam turned his eyes to his brother even though he knew that Dean would be able to see the pain and anger there. He lowered his gaze to the floor before his older brother could see the depth of the pain.

"You okay?" He wasn't and Dean knew that.

Sam didn't answer for a moment before he shrugged. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

He looked up at Dean and nodded, his throat tight with tears again. He refused to let them fall. If he could keep one thing together, that's all he needed, control over one thing in his life. He could control tears.

"I asked her if she blamed me for Jess." Sam muttered, not even knowing why he was saying this. "She didn't." He looked up at Dean for answers. "I'm the reason that her daughter is dead." His voice broke.

"You didn't kill her."

Sam looked out the window because he couldn't stand the sympathy and compassion that spilled from Dean's eyes. "But I did. And she doesn't blame me, not even a little bit."

"She loves you, Sam." Dean shrugged.

"She shouldn't." He muttered so quietly that Dean almost didn't catch it, for Sam's sake he pretended that he didn't hear it.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. His fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw tight. Dean watched him for a few more minutes before he turned back around. The ride back to Bobby's was silent, nobody having any words that seemed to have the validity to break the silence.

Bobby pulled around back and turned off the van. "I'll get some blankets on the bed." He climbed out of the van.

Sam had fallen asleep against the window. His face pale in contrast to the bruising.

Dean hated to wake him. "Sam." He touched his shoulder.

Sam's eyes blinked open and he glanced over at Dean. Silent, he stiffly climbed out of the van.

"You need anything?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm kind of tired, so…" He let the word fade as he painfully climbed the steps up to the house.

Dean gave him a few minutes before he followed behind. The bedroom door was closed and Bobby was getting a couple beers from the refrigerator when Dean came in. He was handed a beer and they both sat at the kitchen table.

"He'll be all right, Dean. Just give him some time."

"I keep stumbling across parts of his life that I never knew about, and then I think that maybe he belongs there, that he never should have to be here doing this."

Bobby looked up. "Dean, that kid would do anything for you. Yeah, maybe a couple a places out there fit Sam, but he's not going anywhere without you." He smiled a little. "If he didn't want to be someplace, you'd sure as hell know it."

"But if he's only staying because of me-"

"I'm not." Sam leaned against the doorway. "I'm here because I have to, because ignoring everything out there, is the last thing I want to do." He couldn't speak above a whisper. "Dean, I don't want you thinking that you're keeping me from something, you're not."

He got a glass of water and went back to the room. Dean half stood, but Bobby's hand on his arm stopped him "Let him go, son."

Dean took a drink of his beer and hated that there was nothing he could do.

Sam eased his bruised and sore body onto the mattress and draped one arm over his eyes. His headache sharpened some and he just wanted to sleep. He took a deep breath to see how far he could go before his broken fibs protested the movement. He wanted to go back a week, before he had learned about the case, before he decided that he had to vindicate at least one of the Moore children, before he knew that he had to see Emily one last time. Suddenly everything was so tangled and complicated that he couldn't see a way out. The room darkened around him as evening approached and he fell asleep.

Dean and Bobby spent most of their time playing poker and drinking beer. Their conversations were limited, there wasn't much that words could fix at the moment.

Dean slipped into the room and glanced over at Sam. He smiled a little and carefully slipped his younger brother's shoes off and threw a blanket over him. Dean pulled of his boots and belt before he climbed under his own blankets. He lay awake for a while just to listen to Sam breathe, to know that physically Sam was going to be all right.


	5. Sleepless

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't. I'm a recent college grad with negative money (I owe money) so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

-sn-

The room was dark. Dean hit the button on the flashlight, but nothing happened. He cursed under his breath and waited for his eyes to adjust, he hated waiting. A dark figure was suspended towards the back of the room. With mounting trepidation that Dean couldn't figure out, he walked towards it.

As he got closer he recognized a blue hooded sweatshirt. Sam. Dean could now make out the noose around Sam's neck, the stillness of his little brother. Dean reached for his pistol, aimed, fired. Nothing happened, the gun wasn't even loaded. He always loaded the guns.

He desperately looked for something to get Sam down. He suddenly remembered his knife. He flipped it open, pretended that there was no more pressure than a game of darts in a smoky bar, and threw. The rope snapped and Sam's lifeless form dropped to the unforgiving floor.

Dean checked for a pulse, for breath, for anything, but Sam was gone. Dean started chest compressions, breaths, Sam's ribs broke under the attempt to save his life. Minutes passed, but Dean couldn't stop. Sammy was dead, never to come back.

"Sammy." He yelled as though it could wake him up.

Dean sat bolt upright in bed, his breath fast and his heart racing. He looked over to Sam and held his breath until he saw his little brother breathe. Dean's hands shook and he couldn't get the images of the nightmare out of his head. He glanced down at the illuminated hands of his watch and saw that it was four thirty. He knew he wouldn't sleep any more that night.

Silently, Dean slipped out of the room and went out to the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and leaned against the counter, his heart still beating quicker than usual. The coffee finished and he poured himself a cup.

He wasn't sitting at the table long before Bobby appeared. "I thought I heard someone up."

Dean looked over as Bobby poured himself coffee. "Couldn't sleep."

"I never could go back to sleep after a nightmare either."

He met Bobby's gaze. "How'd you know?"

"Dean, you sleep like lead when you're here. I've only seen you get up before six a handful of times."

He shrugged and took a drink of his coffee.

"Also, you make coffee."

"I never meant to be so predictable."

Bobby looked up at him. "When everything else goes to shit, routines hold strong in whatever way they can."

They sat at the table and drank coffee over conversations of sports, past poker victories and engines. They didn't talk about jobs or the reason why the boys were at Bobby's.

Sam stood in the gym, the darkness pressed against him. He could feel someone there with him, just beyond his sight.

"Dean?" His voice echoed back to him.

"Sam?"

Suddenly there was a flashlight in his hand and the beam swung around until it landed on Jeremy, hanging from the pipe. His limp body swung slightly, but his eyes were focused on Sam.

"You could have saved me, Sam." He coughed and blood ran down his chin. "You should have saved Jess."

Sam dropped to his knees, the light and his eyes locked on Jeremy. Everything spun around him and he felt sick.

"Sam." A lighter voice, from behind him.

Something wet fell onto his cheek. He wiped it away and saw blood on his fingertips. Even though he knew and feared what he would see, he raised the beam of light to the ceiling above his head.

Jess was there, pinned and bleeding.

"Sam." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Save me, save my brother."

Then the flames started and Sam was frozen.

"You killed us, Sam." Jeremy called over the crackle of the fire. "You knew and you didn't tell her. You could have saved her!" He yelled.

"I don't blame you, Sam." He turned and saw Emily. She stood between her children dying and looked only at Sam. "I can't blame you."

"I did this." He held his hands out, empty.

Pain ripped across his chest. He pressed a hand to his shirt and it came away slick with blood.

Sam woke tangled in the sheets. His ribs felt like knives in his chest as he gasped for breath. His head pounded with his rapid heartbeat. Sweat dampened his hair and shirt. He eased himself up and rested his elbows on his knees.

Dean had been in the shower not ten minutes when Sam appeared in the kitchen. His hands trembled a little and he looked worn out.

Bobby looked up from the paper he was reading. "Are you okay?"

Sam nodded, pale and silent. "Where's Dean?"

"In the shower. Coffee?"

Sam shook his head. "Maybe I'll go for a walk."

"How'r your ribs?"

He shrugged. Bobby set his pain pills on the counter and placed a glass of water next to them. Sam took one and finished the water.

"Don't go off too far."

He slipped out the back door and Bobby watched him walk towards the junk cars.

On his way across the yard, Sam grabbed a baseball bat that was propped against a rusted truck frame. Everything was still messed up in his head, so tangled that he didn't know what he should be feeling. As he walked, the bat in hand, anger slowly became the only thing he could figure out. He stopped by a dented car and looked at it for a moment.

He swung the bat through the window and ignored the pain that ripped across his chest. The glass shattered and he tightened his grip. He swung into the side of the car and dented it further. The strain ripped through his ribs, but he couldn't stop. He beat the shit out of that car.

Exhausted, he dropped the bat and fell to his knees. The pain sharpened and his breath was tight in the lungs. He crawled over and leaned against the car. His headache returned full force and he closed his eyes to everything around him. After a half hour all the pain was muted by the medication and he pushed himself to his feet.

He picked up the bat and swung again. With each swing he yelled with all the volume he could muster from his damaged throat. "I. Killed. Them. All." His voice broke and cracked. Tears ran down his cheeks. "It's. My. Fault."

He didn't hear the footsteps behind him, didn't know Dean was there until his arms wrapped around Sam from behind and stopped him. Automatically he tried to fight.

"Sammy, come on. You're okay. It's going to be okay, Sammy." Dean held him to keep him from moving. "Sam, please."

Sam struggled for a few seconds before he dropped to his knees, Dean with him. Dean could feel his younger brother's labored breathing, he could almost feel the pain that radiated from him.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice hinted at worry.

"He'll be all right." He still hadn't let go of Sam.

Sam leaned against his brother as the pain grew stronger again. Tears still fell from his eyes and he hated that Dean was there to witness it all.

"What's going on, Sammy?" Dean loosened his grip slightly.

Sam reached a hand up and gripped Dean's wrist. "Don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He continued to gasp for breath. "Hurts."

"Yeah, let's get you back to the house." Dean glanced over at Bobby.

"Not yet." He breathed. "I'm sorry."

Dean shifted slightly, but didn't let go of his brother. "What's going on?"

"Dreamed I killed them." He whispered. "I did kill them."

"No, Sammy. You didn't kill them."

Sam winced and was worn out from the pain. He had been up too long, done too much. Dean felt Sam's strength fade.

"Let's go back to the house and we'll get this sorted out, okay Sammy?"

"It's Sam." He sighed.

Dean almost smiled. "Come on, jerkface."

Bobby and Dean helped Sam to his feet and guided him back to the house. Sam was dizzy and the pain continued to sharpen in his head and his ribs. His legs were weak and he kept tripping on small things. They brought Sam back to the house and eased him onto the bed.

He sunk into the pillows with his eyes closed. He reached for Dean's hand and held it tight. Bobby left and returned with the pain medication and water. Dean sat Sam up and Bobby fed him the medication and water. Dean leaned Sam back against his chest and held him. Sam reached up and held onto his brother's arms.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy."

"Don't leave yet." He barely whispered.

"Not a chance." Dean could feel him shake with pain and fatigue. "I'm not going anywhere."


	6. Pennance

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't. I'm a recent college grad with negative money (I owe money) so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

-sn-

Ch. 6 – Penance

"It's what I deserve, Dean." Sam whispered.

Dean leaned forward to catch the words. "What is?"

Sam gestured towards his chest and the bruises around his neck.

Dean caught his younger brother's hand. "You're wrong. You don't deserve any of this."

He looked up at Dean. "If I hadn't-"

"Sam. You'd do anything for them, and you have. You didn't deserve to get the shit kicked out of you by some jacked up spirit, you didn't deserve to grow up like you did and you don't deserve to blame yourself for it all."

He nodded slightly. "Kinda tired." He slurred.

"Yeah, well. You have enough pain meds in you to knock you out for a week."

"Sounds good." He sighed. "Not leaving?"

"Never."

With the help of the medication, Sam slipped back into sleep. Dean eased him back onto the bed and moved to a chair.

Bobby passed Dean a cup of coffee and pulled up a chair. Dean wrapped his hands around the mug and felt the warmth seep into his hands.

"That's the first rational thing I've seen him do in a while." Bobby looked over at Dean. "Though, beating the shit out of something is usually your course of action."

"Yeah, I've been known to do that, not with broken ribs though." Dean shook his head slightly. "I wish I could get into his head."

"You do more for him than you know."

Dean turned to him. "Not getting soft on me, are you, Bobby?"

Bobby smiled. "Not a chance." He looked down at the floor between his feet. "You know, sometimes I think the only reason I keep those cars out there is so that you boys have someplace to figure out who you are again."

"You might be right."

Sam shifted in his sleep and he winced. He slipped his hand out of Dean's and curled on his side. Dean pulled the blanket up and leaned back in the chair. It wasn't the first time, and probably wasn't the last time that Dean wished that just once, Sam could get a break. That they both could get a break. To drive someplace not to hunt down something that was killing people, but to drive for the hell of it. That Sam could have been what he wanted to be in college, that he could have grown up in one house with a dad, mom and brother, like everyone else.

"Everything always seems to be fucked up, doesn't it Sammy." Dean muttered to himself.

Sam woke up alone in the room. The house was silent around him. He sat up, felt the pain in his ribs and slowly stood.

"Dean? Bobby?" His voice wasn't strong enough to be heard out of the room.

Slowly he walked into the hall. Something was wrong, the house was too quiet. Especially after his encounter with the car, they wouldn't be too far away. It took him a while to check the house, but it was as empty as he feared.

He stood in the back door, saw the impala and Bobby's van. "Dean? Bobby?"

"Hey, Sam." The voice sent ice in his veins.

He slowly turned. Jess stood a few feet away, pale and the blood bright across her white dress. She smiled at him, but there was something cold and dangerous in her smile. He backed against the doorway and felt his breath tighten in his lungs.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" She smiled.

He nodded slightly.

She took a step forward and was suddenly inches from him. He could smell her blood under the smell of smoke. Her eyes were too dark and too hollow to be hers. It was all wrong. He swallowed the nausea that rose out of fear.

"You don't seem happy to see me, Sam."

"Just didn't expect you." He whispered.

She cupped his face with an icy hand and he shuddered. She brought her lips close to his and looked into his eyes.

"I came back for you." She pressed her dead lips to his.

He tried to pull away, but she pushed his head against the wall. He wanted to get away but her surprising strength and his fear held him where he was. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and kissed him harder. She pulled back and smiled.

"Jess." He half sobbed.

She bit her bottom lip and held his face between her hands. "I'm never going to let you go." It was a threat and they both knew that.

She leaned in to kiss him again, her icy skin pressed against his, so cold it almost hurt. She wanted to hurt him.

Sam jolted awake. His heart pounded and his stomach churned from the images of the dream that he couldn't shake. The room was empty and he didn't want to be alone. He held his breath and faintly made out Dean's and Bobby's voices as they drifted in from the kitchen. He relaxed slightly. He felt sick and the room shifted slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed.

He shakily stood and went into the bathroom. He caught his reflection in the mirror and saw the paleness in his face and the fear in his eyes. His stomach clenched and he vomited into the sink in front of him. He reached up and turned on the water as he vomited again.

Dean ran to the doorway and saw Sam hunched over and shaking. He went to his brother's side and gripped Sam's shoulders.

"You're all right, Sammy."

Sam sunk to his knees and still kept a grip on the edge of his sink.

Dean knelt next to him. "Everything's going to be okay."

Sam rested his forehead on the edge of the counter and tried to straighten everything out. He felt dizzy and detached, lost. He reached up and grabbed Dean's hand.

"What happened, Sammy" Dean's voice was calm, quiet.

"Sorry." He whispered.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded slightly and closed his eyes. "I thought she was here, but it was all wrong. And she was cold, and I could feel her, but it wasn't right." He muttered.

"Jess?" He hated to ask.

Sam nodded again. He relaxed as fatigue set in and tried to pull him into sleep again.

"Get some rest, Sammy."

"Don't wanna sleep." He whispered.

"I'll stay right next to you, I won't let anything happen."

"Okay." He was exhausted enough to believe him.

Bobby was close by and he helped Dean get Sam up and back to bed. Sam collapsed onto the bed and pulled his knees in towards his chest. Dean gripped his younger brother's hand as Sam fought and lost to the sleep that pulled at his exhausted body.

"What happened, Dean?" Bobby whispered in case Sam wasn't quiet asleep yet.

"Nightmare." Dean glanced back at him. "About Jess."

"He's starting that again?"

"I don't think it ever really stopped, they're just worse now." He looked at Sam and watched him sleep.

Dean was true to his word, like everything else he promised Sam, and stayed through the evening and into the night. Bobby brought in a sandwich for Dean and sat a few feet away. Sam slept without knowing anything but the blackness of unconsciousness. He shifted painfully under the blanket.

"Is he all right?" Bobby leaned forward.

"Don't know if I should wake him to take his pills or let him sleep." Dean muttered.

"If he's sleeping, I'd let him be."

Dean nodded and leaned back in the chair.

"Why don't you get some sleep, I know that you haven't gotten more than a handful of hours in the last few days."

He shook his head. "I said I'd stay here."

"I'll stay up with him and you'll be just across the room."

Dean stood and went to bed. He didn't sleep, he just lay there and watched Sam sleep. Sam woke a few times, from pain rather than dreams, and Dean was at his side in a second. Dean helped Sam take more medication, or eat a little something if he was able, before he drifted back asleep. It was the first real sleep that Sam had gotten in more days than either cared to count.


	7. Reset

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't. I'm a recent college grad with negative money (I owe money) so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

-sn-

Sam woke late in the morning. Dean was asleep on his bed and Bobby dozed in the chair. His thoughts were clearer than they had been in days and the pain was less sharp, as long as he didn't move too quickly. He had blurred memories of the past few days and wasn't entirely sure what had happened. He slowly pushed himself up against the wall and took a few breaths as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

"How are you feeling?" Bobby sat forward.

Sam shrugged. "Fine." He didn't meet Bobby's eyes. "I'm going to get something to drink."

He shakily stood and rested his hand against the wall for a moment.

"I can get it for you."

"I'm fine, really." He slowly walked out of the room.

Dean sat up and stood. "Where's he going?"

"To get something to drink."

Dean started to follow.

"Dean." Bobby stood. "Give him space."

He took a few steps towards the door and stopped. "I'm going to check the oil in the car."

"The bat's by the door."

Dean turned with a smirk. "Thanks, don't think I'll need it."

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of him when Dean passed through. He stopped by the back door and turned.

"When are you thinking of moving on?" Sam's voice was still rough and quiet.

"Whenever you're ready."

"Tomorrow?" He tried to smile.

Dean leaned against the doorway. "Sam."

He looked down at the table. "Sorry for all this."

He walked over and sat across from his younger brother. "How are you really doing?"

Sam shrugged and took a slow drink. "All right. I wouldn't mind being on the road tomorrow."

"Sure."

Dean stood and slipped out the back door. Sam finished his water and stood. He braced his hands on the edge of the table until he regained his balance again. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded a few more days at Bobby's, he wanted to get as far away from Hollendell as possible. Running away from his problems had worked before, he just had to run long enough for everything to work out on its own. Finding another job would keep his mind from wondering back to things he'd rather not think about.

"Dean come through here?" Bobby came in and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah."

"You guys talk?"

Sam nodded and refilled his glass.

Bobby took a drink of his coffee. They both stood in silence for a while. Sam's phone beeped and he grabbed it from his pocket.

He flipped it open and read the text message from Dean. _ Bitch, leave the bat by the door and help me with making sure the impala's road worthy._ He smiled and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"Gonna help Dean with the car." Sam muttered and slipped out the back door.

Dean was leaning over the open hood of the car when Sam came up. "Hand me that three quarters wrench."

Sam grabbed the wrench and handed it to Dean. The only conversation they had was engine related, Sam was thankful for that. He didn't want to answer questions to things he tried not to think about. His hands shook a little, but neither he nor Dean mentioned it. Sam relaxed some, even though most movement sent pain through his broken ribs.

Bobby grilled a few stakes he found in the bottom of the freezer for dinner and they sat on the porch with beers after. They watched the yard darken as the sun set. Little conversation was exchanged and that was fine for all three of them.

Sam slowly stood, one arm wrapped around his chest to minimize the movement. "I think I'm going to head to bed."

He was a little unsteady on his feet as he slipped inside. Dean let him go even though he wanted to ask how he was.

Sam took his pain medication to give him some respite to the constant throb in his ribs and around his neck. His head had started to hurt after dinner and he was too weary to pretend that he was all right much longer. He lay in bed for a while, both waiting and refusing sleep. Somehow he fell asleep without meaning too and didn't wake when Dean came in around midnight.

Sam dreamed of Jess again. It was the standard dream of her pinned on the ceiling, exactly how she died, nothing worse than that. No dead Jess returning for revenge or forcing her icy lips upon Sam's. Even still, he woke with a start. Cold sweat soaked the back of his shirt and fear gripped him. He took slow breaths to calm his racing heartbeat and to relax away the pain in his chest. He sat up and clenched his hands to try and stop the shaking.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean's voice cut through the darkness.

"Yeah." His voice wavered a little.

"Goodnight, then." He rolled over and folded the pillow under his head.

Sam slipped back under the blankets and closed his eyes. He knew that Dean knew why he woke and he also knew that his brother would always wake up when he did. Sam could fall asleep again because Dean was keeping an eye out for him, like always. Dean waited until Sam's breath evened out in sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Sammy." He whispered before he let himself drift off again. He knew that his little brother had dreamed of Jess again, had dreamed of her dead or dying. He also knew that there would be more nights like that for both of them.

Sam woke first and sat up. His headache was mostly gone, enough that a shower would get rid of the rest of it. He stood under the hot water for a while at let it work the tension out of his shoulders.

"Come on, Sam. You've been in there for a week." Dean pounded on the door.

Sam stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He wiped the steam off the mirror and saw the bruises on his chest that matched the ones around his neck. He shaved and wrapped new bandages around his chest to ease the pain from his ribs. He pulled on clean jeans and a tee shirt and stepped out. The normalcy and routine helped Sam get his life back together some.

Dean leaned against the wall. "About time." He smirked as he passed his brother.

They sat down for a cup of coffee and breakfast with Bobby. They talked about sports and cars, poker and hot girls. Dean teased Sam for having less athletic ability that half the girls Dean hooked up with and Sam was quick to point out that some of the girls Dean found were questionable in the girl department. Bobby shook his head, but was secretly glad to see that the banter had returned to the conversation.

Shortly before noon, Sam and Dean checked for last minute things that might have been forgotten and climbed into the car. Bobby waved once from the back door as Dean pulled out of the driveway.

"I looked this morning, but couldn't find any jobs." Dean stated even though Sam knew he was lying. "All quiet on the western front, so I was thinking we just drive and see where we end up." He glanced over at his brother.

Sam smiled a little. "Sounds good to me."

"I'm thinking someplace sunny, with a beach and girls in bikinis." Dean worked to keep the smirk off his face. "Or someplace with topless girls in bikinis. Would they still be called bikinis?"

"Yeah, Dean, I think they still would."

"Come on, a little sand, a little sun, a lot of skin. Even you might get lucky."

"Maybe you should start using your upstairs brain for once." He smirked. "That is, if it still works."

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam smiled and looked out the window.

Dean pulled onto the highway and pushed the speed limit. With the windows down, the radio up and the road rushing behind them, Sam figured that everything was getting close to normal, or at least back to the way things were. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, they were going to be all right. Dean turned up the music and glanced over at Sam, yeah, they were going to be all right.


End file.
